


Office Surprise

by VeraBAdler



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Play, Bondage, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Crack, Cunnilingus, Dom Steve Rogers, Don't Try This At Home, Established Relationship, Massage, Misuse of Office Supplies, Multi, Nipple Clamps, Oral Sex, Sub Bucky Barnes, Switch Natasha, Top Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-03
Updated: 2017-10-03
Packaged: 2019-01-08 09:44:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12251835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeraBAdler/pseuds/VeraBAdler
Summary: In which Steve and Nat have a special surprise for Bucky's birthday.





	Office Surprise

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BitchFace47](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BitchFace47/gifts).
  * Translation into Русский available: [Офисный сюрприз](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16067246) by [fandom_marvel_2018](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandom_marvel_2018/pseuds/fandom_marvel_2018)



> A birthday gift for my dear [friend](http://bitchface47.tumblr.com/). Forgive any blatant mischaracterization, as this is not the fandom I live in. Also this is ridiculous crack, so.

Bucky should have known when Nat and Steve sent him off that morning with cheek kisses and cursory, quick-muttered birthday wishes that they were up to something.

“Love you, Buck. We'll do something special tonight,” Steve had added innocently as he'd bustled out the door.

It's only now that the true meaning behind those words is hitting Bucky, because apparently living with the loves of his life has made him stupid and slow, so fucking slow. 

And so he finds himself stark naked, spread-eagle, tied to their big soft bed with colorful animal-shaped rubber bands. Nat had taken great amusement in showing him the animal shapes as she'd snapped them onto his wrists and ankles. “This one's a camel, James,” she'd said brightly as she'd fastened his right arm to the bedpost. “And this one's a kitty!” she'd chirped by his left leg.

The rubber bands are thin, easy to tear. They exert almost no pressure against his skin. But Bucky knows that if any of them break or roll off, everything stops, and he _desperately_ does not want that to happen. So he's taking great care to keep his limbs in place, exactly as his lovers wish.

His lovers, meanwhile, are taking great care to make this exceedingly difficult. 

Steve (or “Sir” as he is now expecting to be called) is [dressed for success](https://i.imgur.com/rAk6dkN.jpg) in a buff wool cardigan, crisp white dress shirt, dark khaki pants (freshly ironed, the pleat so sharp it looks dangerous), and a striped tie. He's wearing his best shoes, the oxblood wingtips that he only wears when he wants to look professional. His hair is neat, his face composed. The only thing that belies the demeanor of a serious businessman doing serious business is the light stubble on his face. Well, the stubble and the fucking smirk. Bucky would do anything to be able to grab him and kiss that smirk right off his face, but oh yeah – kitty-shaped rubber bands.

Natasha, for her part, or “Ms. Romanoff” as he is now instructed to refer to her, is [librarian-chic](https://i.imgur.com/NTec3Ax.jpg) in a black pencil skirt and fuck-me pumps. Her silk blouse stretches deliciously across her breasts, and no actual librarian in the world would get away with having _that_ many of her buttons unbuttoned in the workplace. She holds a stenographer's pad and a pen and she perches on a nearby chair.

Sir is holding a bright yellow file folder labeled “James Buchanan Barnes.” He places a pair of utterly unnecessary and almost certainly fake reading glasses on his perfect nose and then peers at Bucky over the top of them. “Let's get down to business, then, shall we?”

Bucky groans at the pun and briefly considers safewording just to get away from Steve's abysmal sense of humor, but he _really_ wants to see where this is going, so he waits until Sir glances down at the folder and then he rolls his eyes, just a little. Nat sees him do it, but she doesn't call him out; she suffers through Steve's love of bad puns just as much as Buck does. They share a quick chagrined smile and then Ms. Romanoff snaps back into work mode. Bucky does his best to compose himself, focusing on his breathing and consciously relaxing his body on the bed.

Sir clears his throat. “Eyes on me, Buck. Ms. Romanoff, are you ready to begin?”

"Absolutely, Sir,” she purrs. She raises the steno pad and poises her pen.

“Now then,” Sir intones, “today we're performing Mr. Barnes's yearly review, is that correct?”

“Yes, Sir,” Ms. Romanoff replies, pretending to make a note on the pad.

Sir's eyes flick back down to the papers in his hand. “Alright then, James. May I call you James? It looks as though you've been with us for some time now, but you've never had a proper yearly review. We'll just have to make this one extra... _thorough_.” His eyes roam over Bucky's body, and his mouth parts, tongue peeking out to wet his lips. It's a tiny crack in his brusque businessman facade, and it makes Bucky feel flushed all over. Sir is still speaking, though. Bucky forces himself to listen carefully.

“According to my records, there are three main skills that we should be focusing on during this review: sensitivity, focus, and control. Additionally, there are six areas of particular interest that we will be paying special attention to. Those are here, here, here, here, here, aaaand _here_.” 

Sir indicates the “areas of particular interest” with a laser pointer that he'd pulled out of his shirt pocket, flicking from one part of Bucky's body to the next. The red dot falls first onto each of his nipples, then to each of his hip bones, up to his belly button, before finishing on his cock, which is definitely starting to perk up and take notice of the situation.

At a gesture from Sir, Ms. Romanoff pulls out a small pack of Post-it flags, and she peels them off, one at a time, and sticks them onto the spots that the dot had indicated.

“Now, James, I hope that you can be patient with us as we work you through this review process. Your sincere and complete cooperation will go a long way towards assuring that this meeting is satisfying for everyone involved. I do so want to be able to...” Sir glances at Bucky's cock, “give you a nice big raise today. Before we continue, let's make sure you've had your orientation. What is my name?”

“Sir.”

“What is her name?”

“Ms. Romanoff.”

“And what is your safeword?”

“Plum.”

“Excellent. Let's begin. I'd think I'd like to start with a team-building exercise. Ms. Romanoff, please grab those balls.”

Bucky flinches, but Ms. Romanoff reaches under her chair and pulls out a mismatched pair of stress balls. One is bright yellow and printed with an exaggerated smiley face; it looks squishy and soft. The other is smaller, a bit bigger than a golf ball. It's dark blue and shiny, and looks like it would bounce if thrown.

Sir directs her towards Bucky's body and she spends a few minutes rolling the balls along his chest and his bound limbs. She uses firm but varied pressure and alternates between the two different balls. It's somehow the weirdest and best massage that he's had in years; she stretches and warms his muscles and he feels himself melting even more deeply into the mattress.

After a few minutes of this, just as Bucky's actually starting to drift off a little, Sir says, “alright,” and Ms. Romanoff's gentle movements cease. She hands the stress balls to Sir, who presses the soft one into Bucky's left hand.

“Hold onto that, James. This will be your non-verbal safeword. If at any point you want us to stop, drop the ball. You'll need to hold that for the next few minutes because this,” he flourishes the smaller, firmer ball, “will be going here.”

Sir grabs Bucky's chin and pulls gently downward, a gesture that is intimately familiar to both of them. Bucky obligingly opens his mouth, and the ball is placed on his tongue. It's a comfortable size, about the same as their go-to gag. It tastes a little more plasticky than he'd like, but he has a feeling that he's going to be too distracted to worry about things like that pretty soon.

Sir examines him appraisingly. 

“Are you comfortable, James? Yes? Then let's begin your first assignment. We'll be working on sensitivity. Ms. Romanoff, do you have the label maker?”

“Right here, Sir.”

“Excellent. Please spend some time working over James' flagged areas of interest. You may visit and revisit them as often as you like, in any order you like, but you may only touch them with the tip of your tongue. Bucky, I'd like you to pay attention to the sensations that you'll be experiencing. At the end of the assignment we will debrief and at that time I'd like you to rank the six areas from least to most sensitive. We'll be numbering them with the label maker and I'll be documenting the results for your file. Ms. Romanoff, you may begin.”

The next ten minutes are sweet torture. Ms. Romanoff teases him ceaselessly, wonderfully. She dips her tongue into his belly button, runs it lightly from the base to the tip of his cock, then drops little kitten licks back and forth between his hipbones. She draws ticklish little circles around his nipples, then drops her body down to lap up a bead of precum. She spends what feels like an hour tracing squiggly little shapes on his hips while his erection, ignored, twitches by her cheek. It all feels fantastic but nothing she does is anywhere near _enough_ , and her movements are so unpredictable it starts to make him feel edgy and irritated. He can't say anything around the ball in his mouth, but he shifts uncomfortably, his brow furrowing. Sir must notice the shift in Bucky's mood; he clears his throat and taps the file folder, reminding him of his assignment.

“Are you ready to give your report, James?” Sir holds his hand in front of Bucky's mouth and accepts the stress ball when he spits it out.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Very well. Ms. Romanoff, please label the areas as James lists them off. Starting from #6, least sensitive?”

“Right hipbone, Sir. Then left hipbone, right nipple, belly button, left nipple, cock.”

Ms. Romanoff prints off labels and sticks one firmly to each part. James looks down his body and is reminded of the anatomy diagrams in his fifth grade science book.

“Good work, team!” Sir beams. He pulls his phone out and takes a picture of James' benumbered torso. “That's one for the file!”

Sir strokes lightly around the #6 label affixed to Bucky's right hipbone for a moment, then rips it off. The skin reddens where the adhesive tugs before giving way. He brusquely removes the other labels, one at a time, in reverse order. Each one stings more than the last. 

Label #1, which Ms. Romanoff had stuck directly onto his frenulum, _hurts_ to remove, a sharp little zing of pain that makes stars burst in the edges of his vision. Bucky knows better to make a sound, though. Sir nods his approval, his eyes dark.

“Let's move on to our next project, where we will focus on, well, _focus_. Ms. Romanoff, if you please?”

Ms. Romanoff takes his nipples in her hands and teases them quickly up to hard points. She drops a quick kiss onto each one, then gives him a wink that Sir can't see. She reaches into the pocket of her pencil skirt and pulls out a pair of bright red binder clips, which she snaps onto his nipples.

The pressure is _exquisite_. Steve probably bent the clips out a little bit before they started the scene, because they squeeze him in exactly the right way, giving him an electric zing of perfect pain that goes straight to his cock.

Ms. Romanoff's tight little skirt seems to have unusually capacious pockets, because she reaches in again and this time she pulls out a bottle of lube. She looks at Sir and raises her eyebrows expectantly. Sir, who has moved off to the side and is pulling something out of a desk drawer, nods and gestures.

“Proceed,” he intones.

She squeezes some of the lube onto her fingers and reaches between Bucky's legs, spreading the slickness all around his hole before dipping one fingertip inside.

Bucky moans, overcome with pleasure. After all of the teasing and the labelmaking, now he's finally being touched. The stimulation of the clamps and the feel of Nat's finger working inside of him are winding him up fast. He could _definitely_ come like this, and _soon_.

Sir snaps his fingers once. 

“Eyes on me, Buck.”

Their cue phrase, the words that Steve uses to start their scenes, pulls him back from the edge. Oh yeah, he's supposed to _focus_. But on what, exactly?

As usual when they scene, Sir reads his fucking mind. 

“That's right, James. We're working on _focus_ here. And clearly we need to start this project ASAP. Ms. Romanoff, feel free to do anything you want to our coworker here. You may use your hands and your mouth however you like, but please avoid area of interest #1 for the time being. James, while she's doing that, I've got this brand new pack of Sharpies in twenty-four assorted colors. I'm going to hold them up, one at a time, and you need to name their colors. Call them out confidently and quickly, James. If you hesitate too long, or call out the wrong color on a marker, that marker is going in your ass. Is this clear?”

Bucky shivers, but nods. Ms. Romanoff is nibbling on his earlobe but Sir asked for focus and so Bucky tries to _focus_.

“Your ass might have to work overtime here, James, but impress me and there will be a nice, fat bonus waiting for you at the end of this.”

Bucky thinks about _Steve's_ nice fat bonus, imagines it sliding into his ass instead of some stupid markers, and has to think about the 1936 World Series (Yankees over Giants, 4 games to 2. Bill Dickey, Joe DiMaggio, Lou Gehrig, Lefty Gomez, focus, _focus_...) to calm himself down again.

Just as he gets control back, Sir holds up the first Sharpie. It's an easy one.

“Black, Sir.”

Steve puts the black marker back in its box and holds up another.

“Red, Sir.”

They proceed through a half dozen markers with no errors. Ms. Romanoff sucks hickeys onto Bucky's throat, his jaw, his collarbones. She flicks and twiddles the clips on his nipples. Sir holds up another marker.

“Pur- Pink, Sir. Pink.”

“Hmm, sounded like you were going to say something else there, James. I think this one goes in your ass.”

The marker's smooth barrel slides in easily. Sir leaves the colored cap sticking out. He looks between Bucky's legs consideringly.

“Festive. I like it. Let's proceed.”

They get through a few more markers. There are some obscure colors in that 24-pack, but Bucky's been hanging out with his artsy friend Steve since sometime last century and he's picked up a few things.

“Turquoise, Sir. Mint. Orchid. Beige.”

Ms. Romanoff reaches down to Bucky's hole and wiggles the marker around in a smooth circle, brushing the barrel against his prostate over and over. Bucky's breathing picks up and his eyes flutter shut for a moment, causing him to miss the next pen that Sir presents. It goes inside him along with the first.

Sir holds up a marker, an easy one, but just as Bucky is about to call out its color Ms. Romanoff slips her tongue inside one of the binder clips and cups her hand around Bucky's balls.

“Ye-- _Unnhh!_ Yellow, Sir!”

“Too slow.” Sir smirks and pushes the yellow marker into Bucky's ass, then holds up the next one.

“Blue, Sir.”

“Mm, pretty sure you already called out a blue one, James. And really I think this is more of a navy. In it goes.”

Bucky tries with everything he's got to give Sir his full attention as they work through the rest of the pack, but the sinful things Ms. Romanoff is doing to him, coupled with the increasingly pleasant stretch of the Sharpies in his hole, makes the task difficult, to say the least. By the time they're finished the exercise, he has ten pens inside of him, their colored caps protruding in a motley bundle. Sir takes a few pictures of his impromptu rainbow butt plug, exclaiming at the lovely interplay of colors involved.

“Fourteen out of twenty-four correct, James. The percentage is unimpressive, but you identified several of the more obscure colors, so we'll call this a successful assignment. I'll add these photos to your file. Ms. Romanoff, please make a note that we are pleased with James's focus.”

She makes another illegible squiggle on her steno pad and simpers.

Sir rakes his eyes along Bucky's bound form. His skin is littered with love bites, and he's slick with sweat. His nipples throb in their restraints and his cock is dripping a steady stream of precum onto his belly. His hole is stuffed with colored markers. He's breathing hard and his pupils are dilated to their fullest, but he keeps his gaze fixed on Sir, awaiting his next instruction.

Pleased, Sir smiles and strokes Bucky's hair for a moment before turning and pulling the Sharpies out of Bucky's ass, one at a time. Bucky makes a quiet, disappointed sound at the empty feeling, which prompts Sir's expression to become stern.

“James, you've done well so far, but it's not quitting time yet. We still have one more job to do. This one is a group exercise, and your challenge is _control_. Is that clear?”

Bucky nods.

“Good. Good boy. Now, this has been an intense meeting, and it's run quite long. So I've arranged to have a box lunch brought to you. Ms. Romanoff?”

At Sir's nod, Ms. Romanoff hitches up her pencil skirt all the way to her waist, revealing her to be utterly bare underneath. She crawls over him, facing towards Sir at the bottom of the bed, and straddles Bucky's face. She's just out of his reach, but he can smell the sweet, musky scent of her, and he can see how wet she is. His mouth starts to water.

“James, here is where your control comes in. You don't receive your _bonus_ until both Ms. Romanoff and I have. Understood?”

Bucky realizes he hasn't looked at (or, really, thought about) Sir since Ms. Romanoff started pulling her skirt up. He cranes his neck now to see him through her legs and gets the best surprise of the afternoon: Sir's cardigan is off. So are his khaki pants. The crisp white shirt is still on, but it's been completely unbuttoned, the brightness of the fabric setting off the gorgeous tone of Sir's torso. His cock is hard, straining up towards his belly button and visibly slick with precum. The knowledge that Sir has been getting off on this, is turned on and looks to have been turned on for a while, sends a hot rush through Bucky's body. He has to put all of his attention into his breathing, into relaxing and staying calm, to keep from going off untouched.

Sir picks up the bottle of lube from the table where Ms. Romanoff had placed it earlier. He pours some onto his hand and strokes himself from root to tip. Then he crawls onto the bed as well, coming to rest on his knees between Bucky's spread legs. 

“I'll handle this task personally. Ms. Romanoff, would you mind taking some dictation?”

They must have worked this all out ahead of time. The two of them must have gotten together and planned this whole thing out, each prop, each motion, each line. They had to have fucking rehearsed this, because their next move is performed in flawless synchrony: Just as Sir grabs firm hold of Bucky's hips and slides balls-deep into his ass, Ms. Romanoff's pussy drops that crucial inch to rest against Bucky's lips while her own mouth engulfs Bucky's cock to the root.

This is the best fucking birthday James Buchanan Barnes has ever had in his entire fucking life.

The sensations are fantastic, all-encompassing. Sir is filling him _perfectly_ – fast and deep, just the way they both like it. Ms. Romanoff's mouth is hot and sweet on his needy erection. He wants to just take it all, just close his eyes and ride this pleasure to its peak, but he knows he has a job to do, and he can't indulge himself in release until both of his lovers have achieved theirs.

He parts his lips and lets the tip of his tongue out, resting it lightly against Ms. Romanoff's mound for a moment before pushing in and finding her clit. She moans, “James!” when he swirls against it before closing his lips around the bud and sucking.

The three of them are too keyed up after the long scene to make any of this last. Bucky pulls out every trick he knows to get Nat off, and he can tell she's using her best technique on him as well. It only takes a couple minutes before they're both teetering on the edge; Nat's thighs are shaking against his face and he's calculating square roots in his head to try to hold back and wait his turn. Steve's rhythm starts to stutter, and it's clear he's past the point of self-control as well.

One of Steve's hands moves from Bucky's hip and suddenly Nat drops another half inch down on his cock, taking him into her throat. Steve is _pushing her head down onto him_ , and it's mind-blowingly hot. The sensation of her swallowing tight against his tip combined with the thought of this spectacular Dom move from his boyfriend pushes Bucky too far and he feels his orgasm starting.

Fortunately for him, his lovers get there first. Nat moans and shakes when Bucky thrusts his tongue deep into her, and then Steve pushes hard inside him and stills, his cock twitching as Bucky feels himself get filled. He shoots down Nat's throat and she swallows every drop.

As a trio, their bodies slump towards the bed. Without pulling out, Steve reaches for Bucky's ankles, pulling the rubber bands off and gathering Bucky's legs against his sides. It feels ridiculously good to be able to bend his knees again, and he squeezes Steve between his thighs affectionately. Nat sits up and turns around, sitting lightly on his chest and reaching up to free his hands. He wraps his arms around her back and pulls her towards him, kissing her breasts, still hidden in her silk blouse. Steve rests his hands on the bed, leaning forward to look at Bucky with his chin hooked over Nat's shoulder.

“How are you feeling, Buck?” he asks, eyebrows drawn with concern as he searches his boyfriend's face for any sign of discomfort.

“Jesus, Steve, I'm feeling fantastic. That was amazing. You guys are amazing.”

“Yeah?” he asks shyly.

“Fuck yeah, babe. Best birthday ever. Thank you. Both of you. I love you guys so much.”

“We love you too, sweetie,” Nat coos. She pecks a kiss on his mouth, straightens her legs out so she's laying flat on top of him for a moment, then rolls, ending up pressed close against his side. Steve stretches up to give Bucky a kiss as well, then lays against him on the other side. Their hands come up to stroke him, running gentle touches along his arms and chest.

He closes his eyes and just breathes for a moment. His lovers' bodies bleed warmth into him and he soaks it up and waits for his heartbeat to calm.

When he feels like he's come all the way down from the scene, he murmurs, “You guys thinking shower?”

Nat is emphatic. “God, yes. This blouse is sexy as hell, but it does not breathe. I need these clothes off, and I need to get clean.”

Steve is slower to answer, clearly already halfway to a nap. “Yeah, guess so. C'n we lay back down after? 'm wiped.”

“Sounds perfect, babe. Shower then nap. Is there, um...” he hesitates, not wanting to sound greedy after the mind-blowing gift they've just given him. “Is there... Cake?”

Steve snorts a laugh while Nat rolls her eyes so hard Bucky swears he can hear it happening next to his head.

“Yeah, punk,” Steve huffs. “There's cake. But can we rest a little before you blow out your candles? The cake'll keep, but I'm not sure I will without a nap.”

“Absolutely. C'mon, old man, I'll help you into the bathroom.” He rolls off the bed, then reaches to give Steve a hand up while Nat starts to peel off her Hot Secretary drag.

“ _Old man_? I'm not the one who just turned _another_ year older!” Steve gives Bucky's hand a tug, pulling him closer so he can jab the fingers of his other hand into the ticklish spot under his ribcage.

“Yeah, but you're the one who can't have an orgasm without falling asleep for an hour immediately afterwards. No stamina, babe.” He twists away from Steve's hand and pulls him towards the bathroom. It's maybe twenty steps away, but their progress is repeatedly slowed by roughhousing and attempted noogies.

“Guys!” Nat barks, half-serious, half-amused. “Can we all agree that I am the only one here who is not a verifiable senior citizen like twice over, that naps are a genuine good thing at any age, and that it would be a shame to spoil Bucky's special day with me kicking both of your asses right now? Good. Now knock the junior high shit off and get the hot water going. I've got some big plans for Bucky in the shower.”

Best. Birthday. Ever.

**Author's Note:**

> ALL THE DISCLAIMERS: I have never written anything in this fandom before. I'm not really in this fandom. I've never written BDSM before. I've never written a threesome before. Some things these guys get up to are not good, safe BDSM practices, but they're superheroes so what the hell, right? Unless this is an AU. Is it an AU? Hmmm...
> 
> When I gave this fic as a gift, it was in PDF form with images embedded throughout the text. I decided not to replicate that format here so as not to mess with cross-platform compatibility. I linked these two in the text, but in case you didn't notice the links, [this](https://i.imgur.com/rAk6dkN.jpg) is what Steve looks like at the beginning of the scene and [this](https://i.imgur.com/NTec3Ax.jpg) is Nat. Those two pics were provided by the giftee months and months ago when we were first jokingly brainstorming this ridiculous idea. The other pics that were in the PDF are now dropped at the end there just for fun. Those are all yoinked from random places via Google Image Search.


End file.
